: 


MY  STUDY   FIRE 

MY  STUDY   FIRE,   SECOND  SERIES 

UNDER    THE    TREES  AND   ELSEWHERE 

SHORT   STORIES    IN    LITERATURE 

ESSAYS   IN    LITERARY   INTERPRETATION 

ESSAYS   ON    NATURE   AND  CULTURE 

BOOKS    AND  CULTURE 

ESSAYS   ON   WORK  AND  CULTURE 

THE   LIFE    OF   THE   SPIRIT 

NORSE    STORIES 

WILLIAM    SHAKESPEARE 

FOREST   OF   ARDEN 

CHILD  OP*  NATURE 

WORKS   AND    DAYS 

PARABLES    OF    LIFE 

MY  STUDY  FIRE.     ILLUSTRATED 

UNDER   THE    TREES.      ILLUSTRATED 


"  The  Goddess  moving  across  the  fields  " 


E)  [£^  WflBJL'KHLOW: 

RATTQOINIS     BY    CHARLIE  §-L>m  NY©  M 


COPYRIGHT     I9O3 


JAMES    LANE  ALLEN 


IE   PIPES   OF  THE   FAUN  13 


IE   LYRE   OF   APOLLO 


THE    SICKLE  OF   DEMETER  85 


POSTLUDE 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

BY 
W  I  L  L-  H  •  L  O  W 


"  The  Goddess  moving  across  the  fields  "...     Frontispiece 


The  boy  raised  the  pipes  to  his  lips  "        .     .  Facing  page     40 


The  Lyre  of  Apollo 


Without,  the  stillness  of  the  winter  night  "  . 


THE   PIPES   OF  THE   FAUN 


IN 


THE  tenderest  greeri  '  w'as; 
on  the  foliage,  the  whitest 
clouds  were  in  the  sky, 
and  the  showers  were  so  sudden 
that  the  birds  were  hardly  dry 
of  one  wetting  before  there  came 
another.  These  swift  dashes  of 
rain  seemed  to  fall  out  of  the  clear 
blue,  so  mysteriously  did  the  light 
clouds  dissolve  into  the  depths  of 
heaven  after  every  rush  of  pattering 
drops  in  the  woods.  It  was  the 
first  spring  day.  The  season  had 
come  shyly  up  from  the  south,  as 
if  half  afraid  to  trust  its  sensitive 
growths  to  the  harsh  airs  and  rough 

[15] 


caresses  of  the  northern  winds. 
And  sky  and  woods  wore  their 
happiest  smiles  for  the  laggard 
.season,  and  were  bent  on  the 
gayest  revels,  now  that  the  guest 
had  come. 

The  last  traces  of  the  snow  had 
hardly  vanished  and  there  were 
damp,  cool  places  in  the  shadow 
of  rocks,  where  winter  still  waited 
to  be  driven  out  by  those  search 
ing  fingers  of  light  which  leave 
no  hidden  leaf  or  buried  root  un 
touched.  The  woods  that  morn 
ing  were  like  an  empty  stage  upon 
which  the  curtain  has  been  rolled 
up.  There  were  no  moving  figures, 
but  there  were  murmurs  of  sound, 
mysterious  noises,  stirrings  of  things 
out  of  sight,  which  made  one  aware 
[16] 


that  the  play  was  about  to  begin. 
There  were  signs  of  impatience  in 
the  great,  silent  theatre,  as  if  the 
first  lines  had  been  already  delayed 
too  long.  The  sky  and  the  earth 
were  getting  more  intimate  every 
hour ;  secret  forces,  mysterious  in 
fluences,  were  moving  in  the  depths 
of  air,  and  over  the  surface  of  the 
world  there  played  a  subtle  and 
elusive  softness,  the  first  faint 
breath  of  summer,  the  softest  sigh 
of  returning  life. 

Last  year's  leaves  lay  dull  red  in 
the  hollow  between  the  low  hills, 
and  the  black  trunks  of  oaks  made 
the  light,  slender  clusters  of  white 
birches  stand  out  with  bright  dis 
tinctness  on  the  slopes.  The  green 
on  the  birches  was  so  delicate  that, 

[2]  [17] 


ft 


B#r 


looking  from  a  little  distance,  it 
seemed  more  like  a  shading  than 
a  colour ;  but  the  clean  blue  of 
the  sky,  blurred  at  times  by  slowly 
passing  clouds  dark  with  rain,  or 
of  such  whiteness  that  they  seemed 
to  be  erasing  every  trace  of  the 
momentary  blackness,  confirmed 
the  faint  evidence  that  spring 
had  come. 


/ 


18] 


II 


II 

SO,  at  least,  thought  the  Faun, 
sitting  at  ease  with  his  back 
against  an  oak,  his  pipe  in  his 
hand  and  his  eye  wandering  curi 
ously  through  the  open  spaces  of 
the  wood.  So  entirely  at  home 
was  he  that  solitude  or  society 
was  alike  to  him,  and  the  speech  of 
men  or  of  animals  equally  plain. 
There  were  hints  of  wildness  about 
him  ;  for  he  was  brother  to  the  folk 
in  fur  and  feather  that  lived  in  the 
wrood,  although  the  light  in  his  eye 
and  the  pipe  in  his  hand  showed 
that  he  had  travelled  far  from  the 
old  instincts  without  having  lost 
them.  There  were  hints  of  human 
fellowship  in  his  air  of  seeing  the 

[    21] 


world  as  well  as  being  a  part  of 
it ;  although  the  absence  of  all 
thought  about  himself,  all  ques 
tioning  of  the  sky  and  earth,  made 
one  aware  that  if  he  held  converse 
with  men  he  talked  also  with  the 
creatures  that  slept  in  the  fields 
and  hid  in  the  woods. 

He  was  stretched  at  ease  in  a 
world  about  which  he  had  never 
taken  thought,  being  born  into  it 
after  the  manner  of  the  creatures 
that  live  in  free  and  joyous  use  of 
the  things  of  Nature  without  any 
thought  of  Nature  herself.  In  him, 
however,  the  instinctive  joy  in  life 
had  become  articulate ;  he  spake 
for  the  strange  and  wild  instincts 
of  his  kind,  although  he  could  not 
speak  of  them.  In  his  careless, 

[22] 


~-~-r- 


unconscious,  unthinking  life  all  the 
instincts  and  appetites  and  activi 
ties  of  the  living  things  that  were 
fed  and  housed  by  Nature  played 
freely,  joyfully,  without  conscious 
ness.  He  had,  however,  the  gift 
of  speech  ;  and  the  a  silent,  secretive, 
sensuous  world  became  articulate 
on  his  lips  and  he  was  the  inter 
preter  of  that  world  to  men.  Idle, 
smiling,  content  alike  with  the  sun 
and  the  cloud,  the  Faun  was  so 
much  a  part  of  the  streaming  life 
about  him  that  he  did  not  see  its 
beauty  or  feel  its  mystery ;  he  was 
without  apprehension  or  curiosity ; 
he  had  no  tasks  or  duties ;  there 
was  no  law  for  him  save  obedience 
to  his  own  nature,  which  was  sim 
ple,  sensuous,  without  thought  or 


care  or  obligation.  When  he  put 
his  pipes  to  his  lips  and  blew  a  few 
clear  notes  there  were  no  echoes  of 
human  emotion  or  experience  in 
them  ;  they  might  have  rained  down 
from  the  clouds  with  the  song  of 
the  skylark,  which  has  the  quality 
of  the  solitude  of  the  upper  air  in 
it,  or  they  might  have  been  borne 
gently  in  from  a  distance,  like  the 
tones  of  the  waterfall  over  the  hill. 
And  yet  there  was  something  in 
them  which  no  bird  or  animal  nor 
any  stirring  of  water  or  air  could 
have  put  there ;  a  sense  of  the 
mounting  life  of  the  world,  growing 
and  straining  and  rushing  on  to 
fruition;  the  stir  and  murmur  and 
hum  of  bird  and  branch  and  bee; 
the  simple  animal  joy  of  sharing 
[24] 


the  gift  of  life  with  all  creatures, 
without  a  hint  of  its  uses,  its  mean 
ing,  its  end,  it  was  the  song  of  life 
when  it  knows  that  it  is  life  and 
all  the  instincts,  passions,  and  de 
sires  awake  and  fulfil  themselves. 


[25] 


III 


Ill 

^HESE  notes,  clear,  soli 
tary,  penetrating,  came 
like  an  invitation  to  the 
boy  who  had  entered  the  wood  with 
out  thought  or  care  or  desire,  save 
to  feel  the  warmth  of  the  sun  and 
to  take  what  the  day  offered  him. 
He  had  never  heard  such  sounds 
before,  but  they  seemed  so  much 
a  part  of  the  place  and  the  time 
that  he  accepted  them  as  if  they 
were  human  speech.  The  Faun 
himself,  visible  now  through  the 
light  growth  of  the  birch  trees, 
brought  no  surprise ;  he,  too,  be 
longed  to  the  hour  and  the  scene. 
Instead  of  shyness  a  sense  of  fel 
lowship  grew  on  the  boy  as  he  came 
[29] 


nearer  the  pipe  and  the  strange  fig 
ure  which  held  it.  The  Faun  did 
not  cease  his  fitful,  vagrant  music  ; 
he,  too,  seemed  to  apcept  the  boy 
as  of  a  piece  with  the  season. 

There  was  a  deeper  kinship  be 
tween  the  two  than  appeared  at 
the  moment.  Each  had  a  past 
strangely  different  from  the  other ; 
the  roots  of  the  boy's  nature  reach 
ing  back  through  long  generations 
of  thinking,  questioning,  responsible 
creatures  like  himself;  the  roots  of 
the  Faun's  nature  deep  in  the  un 
recorded  experience  of  thousands 
of  generations  of  living  things  that 
know  all  the  ways  of  the  wood  and 
field  and  stream  and  air,  but  had 
never  thought,  questioned  or  had 
a  duty  laid  upon  them.  The  Faun 

[30] 


had  climbed  to  the  point  where  all 
this  vast,  confused,  instinctive  life 
had  become  conscious  that  it  lived  ; 
the  boy  had  gone  far  on  into  a 
world  in  which  instinct  had  be 
come  intelligence,  passion  weakness 
or  power,  appetite  and  desire  mas 
ter  or  servant.  On  that  spring 
morning,  however,  they  stood  on 
the  same  plane  of  being;  for  the 
Faun  was  happy  in  the  sense  of 
life  and  the  boy  was  just  awaken 
ing  to  the  desire  of  the  eye  and 
the  joy  of  the  muscles  and  the 
bliss  of  the  perfect  body  in  the 
world  which  plays  upon  it  as 
the  wind  on  the  harp.  He  did 
not  know  what  stirred  within  him, 
but  he  felt  as  if  he  had  come  to 
his  own  at  last. 

[31] 


mm* 

i/^X  v::; 


The  notes  of  the  pipe  floated 
through  the  wood  and  were  sent 
back  in  echoes  from  the  hillside, 
with  bird-notes  intermingled,  and 
the  soft  murmurs  of  tree  tops  gently 
swayed,  and  the  faint  tones  of  water 
falling  from  rock  to  rock  hidden  by 
a  press  of  ferns  and  softened  by 
mosses.  The  boy  threw  himself 
at  the  Faun's  feet  and  listened ; 
and  as  he  listened  the  whole  world 
seemed  to  come  to  life  about  him 
and  move  together  in  sheer  delight 
in  the  cherishing  of  the  sun  and  the 
caressing  of  the  clouds.  The  woods 
were  full  of  nesting  birds  ;  through 
the  trees  delicate  patterings  of  feet 
were  heard,  as  if  the  creatures  who 
lived  in  the  coverts  and  hidden 
places  were  abroad  without  fear. 

[32] 


M 


'    t? 


The  boy  seemed  to  hear  a  low, 
far,  continuous  murmur  as  of  grow 
ing  things  in  the  ground  shyly 
reaching  slender  tendrils  up  for 
the  touch  of  the  sun  which  was 
to  lift  them  out  of  the  darkness 
of  birth  into  the  bright  mystery 
of  life,  as  of  tiny  leaves  slowly 
unfolding  on  innumerable  branches. 
The  whole  world  seemed  to  be 
moving  in  a  vast  beginning  of 
things ;  creeping,  shining,  expand 
ing,  climbing  in  universal  warmth 
and  light.  Nothing  seemed  com 
plete,  everything  was  prophetic  ; 
the  tide  was  beginning  to  ripple 
in  from  the  fathomless  deeps  of 
being ;  its  ultimate  sweep  and  vol 
ume,  foaming  in  the  vast  channels 
through  the  mountains  and  tossing 

[ 3  ]  [  33  ] 


its  crested  waves  to  the  summits, 
was  still  far  off  in  the  summer  to 
which  all  things  moved,  but  of 
which  there  was  neither  thought 
nor  care  on  that  first  day  of 
spring. 

It  was  the  stir  of  life  which  the 
boy  heard,  and  the  frank,  free,  un 
questioning  joy  in  it  which  made 
riot  in  the  mind  of  the  Faun  ;  the 
mystery  and  wonder  of  it  were  far 
from  the  thought  of  these  two 
creatures  of  the  season,  the  Faun 
who  had  come  up  the  long  ascent 
of  animal  life,  and  the  boy  who 
stood  for  a  moment  with  the  Faun 
at  the  place  where  joy  in  the  sense 
of  life  is  at  the  full.  The  ways  of 
these  two  creatures  met  for  one 
hour  that  morning  in  early  April, 

[34] 


they  were  comrades  in  a  world 
given  over  to  lusty  strength  and 
mounting  gladness  in  tree  and 
flower  and  living  creature. 


IV 


IV 


the  merry  piping  of  the 
Faun  the  boy  laughed 
gleefully ;  here  was  the 
wild  playmate  who  could  take  him 
deeper  into  the  woods  than  he  had 
ever  ventured  and  show  him  the 
shy  creatures  wKo  were  always 
eluding  his  eager  search.  And 
the  Faun,  who  was  nearer  his 
brothers  of  the  wood  than  his 
brothers  of  the  thatched  roof  and 
the  vine  trained  against  the  wall, 
saw  in  the  boy  a  fellow  of  his  own 
mind ;  to  whom  the  wind  was  a 
challenge  to  kindred  fleetness  and 
the  notes  of  the  birds  floating 
down  the  mountain  side  invitations 
to  adventure  and  action. 
[  39  ] 


i^m^ 


The  boy  might  have  been  twelve 
or  thirteen ;  the  Faun  seemed  to 
be  of  no  age  ;  he  had  never  thought 
and  time  had  left  no  trace  on  his 
brow  or  in  his  eye ;  he  might  have 
been  born  with  Nature,  or  he  might 
have  come  with  the  spring.  To-day 
the  boy  was  his  fellow ;  next  spring 
he  would  be  so  far  away  from  him 
that  the  sounds  of  the  pipes  might 
never  reach  him  again.  Of  this 
gulf  to  widen  between  them  the 
Faun  knew  nothing ;  it  was  the 
kinship  of  boy  with  boy  that 
prompted  him  to  hold  out  the 
pipes  to  the  sensitive  hand  which 
showed  the  vast  divergence  of  his 
tory  between  the  two.  The  boy 
raised  the  pipes  to  his  lips  and 
blew  loudly  through  the  rude  joint- 

[40] 


The  boy  raised  the  pipes  to  his  lips  " 


v  :  >':  *J 


ure  of  reeds,  and  then  hung  on 
the  far- travelling  sounds  which  he 
had  set  loose.  There  was  a  strange 
compelling  power  in  them  as  they 
seemed  to  penetrate  further  and 
further  into  the  wood,  and  seizing 
the  hand  of  the  Faun  the  two  ran 
together  up  the  wooded  hill  and 
over  its  crest  into  a  world  of  which 
the  boy  had  only  dreamed  before. 

He  had  seen  the  world  a  thou 
sand  times  before,  but  now  it  flowed 
in  upon  him  through  all  the  chan 
nels  of  his  senses  ;  a  rushing,  sing 
ing,  tumultuous  tide  swept  him 
along,  and  with  the  jubilant  stream 
the  joy  of  life  flooded  his  mind  and 
heart.  A  wild  exultation  seized 
him,  swept  him  out  of  himself, 
and  carried  him  on  with  the  power 

[41] 


;.a.^ii 


and  sweep  of  a  resistless  torrent. 
He  ran,  shouted,  laughed  as  if  some 
hidden  and  inarticulate  force  within 
him  had  suddenly  broken  bounds. 
He  was  fellow  with  the  bird  that 
sang  on  the  bough  and  comrade 
with  the  shy  creatures  who  had 
never  suffered  his  approach  before. 
If  he  had  known  what  was  hap 
pening  within  him  he  would  have 
understood  the  ancient  frenzy  of 
the  Bacchic  worshippers ;  the  sur 
render  to  the  spell  of  the  life  of  the 
world,  rising  out  of  deep  springs 
in  the  heart  of  things,  calling  with 
the  potency  of  ancient  witcheries  to 
his  instincts,  taking  possession  of 
his  quickening  senses,  and  mount 
ing  with  intoxicating  glow  to  his 
imagination. 


,!, 


'. 


V 


I 


pipe  of  the  Faun  drew 
his  feet  far  into  the  secret 
places  of  the  woods,  and 
with  every  step  he  seemed  to  be 
breaking  some  imprisonment,  find 
ing  some  new  liberty.  The  Faun 
could  have  told  him  much  of  that 
ancient  world  which  was  old  before 
man  began  to  look,  to  wonder,  to 
comprehend ;  but  the  wild  music 
of  those  few  notes,  so  inarticulate 
but  so  full  of  the  unspoken  life  of 
hidden  and  fugitive  things,  spoke 
to  his  senses  as  no  words  of  human 
speech  could  have  spoken.  They 
were  full  of  echoes  of  a  dateless 
past,  of  which  no  memory  remained 
save  that  which  was  deposited  in 

[45] 


instinct  and  habit ;  the  earliest  and 
oldest  form  of  memory.  He  was 
recovering  the  lost  possession  of  his 
race  ;  the  primitive  experiences  that 
lay  behind  its  childhood  and  made 
a  deep,  rich,  warm  soil  for  its 
ancient  divinations  and  for  those 
dreams  of  an  older  world  which 
haunt  it  and  are  always  luring  its 
poets  to  the  secret  homes  of  that 
beauty  which  embosoms  the  youth 
of  men,  and  fills  them  with  infinite 
longing  and  regret  when  spring 
comes  flooding  up  the  shores  of 
being  after  the  long  silence  and 
desolation. 

In  that  far-off  world  the  Faun 
still  lived,  and  when  he  blew  on 
the  reeds  its  echoes  set  the  very 
heart  of  the  boy  vibrating  with  a 

[461 


joy  whose  sources  were  far  beyond 
his  ken.  Through  the  soft  splen 
dour  of  the  spring  day,  so  tender 
with  the  fertility  of  immemorial 
years,  so  overflowing  with  the  glad 
ness  of  the  births  that  were  to  be, 
the  boy  ran,  without  thought  or 
care ;  every  sense  flooded  with  the 
young  beauty  and  joy  of  the  sea 
son  ;  his  feet  caught  in  the  rhythm 
of  unfolding  life,  his  imagination 
aflame  with  a  thousand  elusive  in 
tonations  of  pleasure,  a  thousand 
salutations  from  trees  and  birds 
and  restless  creatures  keeping  time 
and  tune  with  the  rhythm  of  the 
creative  hour  in  wood  and  field 
and  sky. 

In  later  days,  when  the  spell  had 
dissolved,  what  he  saw  on  that  day 
[47] 


lay  like  a  golden  mist  behind  him, 
and  what  he  heard  lingered  in 
faint,  inarticulate  echoes  that  set 
his  pulses  beating ;  but  he  recalled 
no  definite  glimpses  and  remem 
bered  no  articulate  words  ;  he  only 
knew  that  he  had  entered  into  the 
joy  of  life,  and  had  been  given  the 
freedom  of  the  world.  Never  again 
did  he  hear  a  song  in  the  woods 
without  pausing  in  hushed  silence 
because  he  stood  on  the  verge  of 
an  older  world ;  never  again  did 
he  catch  a  sudden  glimpse  of  the 
trunks  of  trees  black  against  a  dull 
red  background  of  oak  leaves  or  a 
wintry  sky  without  a  throbbing  of 
the  heart,  which  made  him  aware 
that  he  was  in  the  presence  of 
the  oldest  mysteries. 

[48] 


-v 


When  night  fell  and  a  low  mur 
mur  of  innumerable  creatures,  shel 
tering  in  familiar  places,  filled  the 
woods,  the  boy  looked  in  vain  for 
the  Faun ;  but  far  off  he  heard  the 
wild  notes,  softened  by  the  hush 
of  the  hour,  like  the  sounds  of 
dreams  dreamed  when  the  world 
was  young. 


[49] 


THE   LYRE   OF   APOLLO 


IT  was  mid-June  and  the  world 
was  in  flower.  The  delicate 
promise  of  April,  when  the 
pipes  of  the  Faun  echoed  in  the 
depths  of  woods  faintly  touched 
with  the  tenderest  green,  was  ful 
filled  in  a  mass  and  ripeness  of 
foliage  which  had  parted  with  none 
of  its  freshness,  but  had  become 
like  a  sea  of  moving  and  whisper 
ing  greenness.  The  delicious  heat 
of  the  early  summer  evoked  a 
vagrant  and  elusive  fragrance  from 
the  young  grasses  starred  with 
flowers.  The  morning  songs,  which 
made  the  break  of  day  throb  with 
an  ecstasy  of  melody,  were  caught 
up  again  and  again  through  the 

[53] 


long,  tranquil  hours  by  careless 
singers,  happy  in  some  hidden 
place  in  the  meadows  or  sheltered 
within  the  edges  of  the  wood  ;  and 
with  these  sudden  bursts  of  hidden 
music,  there  came  the  cool  breath 
of  the  dawn  into  the  sultry  noon. 
The  world  was  folded  in  a  dream  of 
heat ;  not  arid,  blasting,  palpitating  ; 
but  caressing,  vitalising,  liberating. 
The  earth,  loved  of  the  sun,  was 
no  longer  coy  and  half  afraid  ;  she 
had  given  herself  wholly,  and  in  the 
glad  surrender  the  beauty  that  lay 
hidden  in  her  heart  had  clothed  her 
like  a  garment.  In  the  fulfilment 
of  her  life  a  sudden  bliss  had  dis 
solved  her  passionless  coldness  into 
the  life-giving  warmth  of  universal 
fertility. 

[54] 


The  Lyre  of  Apollo 


So  deep  was  the  current  of  life 
which  flowed  through  the  world 
and  so  full  and  sweeping  the  tide, 
that  the  youth,  whom  it  seemed  to 
overtake  in  the  heart  of  the  pines, 
was  half  intoxicated  by  the  delicious 
draughts  held  to  his  lips,  and  was  in 
an  ecstasy  of  wonder  and  mystery 
and  joy.  He  had  known  the  world 
well  since  that  early  spring  morn 
ing  years  before  when  he  had  come 
upon  the  Faun,  and  the  two  had 
gone  together,  eager  feet  keeping 
time  to  the  vagrant  music  of  the 
pipes,  to  the  secret  places  where 
the  wild  things  live  and  are  not 
afraid.  From  that  hour  in  his  boy 
hood  he  had  known  bird  and  beast 
so  well  that  he  came  and  went 
among  them  even  as  one  of  them, 

[55] 


'.'•', 


f 

fjf 


% 


,- 


and  his  voice  brought  no  terror 
and  his  shadow  no  sudden  fear  as 
he  wandered,  glad  and  friendly, 
through  the  heart  of  the  forest. 
For  half  a  decade  he  had  had  the 
freedom  of  the  field  and  the  wood, 
and  had  lived  like  a  child  of  nature 
in  the  joy  and  strength  of  the  life 
that  is  one  with  the  health  and 
beauty  of  the  hills  and  stars. 

Again  and  again  he  had  seemed 
to  hear,  borne  on  the  air  of  some 
still  afternoon,  the  faint  music  of 
the  pipes  of  the  Faun,  but  he  had 
never  again  met  that  ancient  dweller 
in  the  woods  face  to  face.  Nor  had 
he  needed  to  ;  for  the  fresh  delight, 
the  instinctive  joy  in  the  life  of 
things,  the  free  play  of  muscle,  the 
complete  surrender  to  the  sight  or 
[56] 


bgG?S 


1'rMti 


yg$\ 

:-  -,'n 


sound  or  pleasure  of  the  moment, 
had  been  his  in  full  measure ;  and 
he  had  lived  the  life  of  the  senses 
in  glad  unconsciousness.  And  the 
years  had  gone  by  and  left  no 
mark  on  him,  save  the  hardening 
of  muscle,  the  filling  out  of  limb, 
the  waxing  strength,  the  growing 
exhilaration  of  youth  and  freedom 
and  infinite  capacity  for  action  and 
pleasure  swiftly  coming  to  clear 
consciousness. 


•:~^;'  &  '*&»• 

• 


[57 


///  ^?»- 


m 


II 


II 


i 


THROUGH  the  long  years 
of  boyhood  Nature  lay 
mirrored  in  his  senses 


without  blur  or  mist,  and  the  images 
of  her  manifold  wonder  and  beauty 
had  sunk  into  the  depths  of  his 
being.  He  had  lived  in  the  moving 
world  that  lay  about  him,  stirred 
into  incessant  action  by  its  constant 
appeal  to  his  energy,  caught  up  and 
carried  forward  for  days  together  in 
a  joyful  rush  of  play ;  led  hither 
and  thither  in  endless  quest  of  little 
mysteries  of  sight  and  sound  that 
teased  and  baffled  him ;  absorbed 
into  complete  self-forgetfulness  by 
the  vast  continent  where  his  lot 
was  cast,  which  called  him  with  a 
[61] 


thousand  voices  to  exploration  and 
discovery. 

Of  late,  however,  there  had  come 
a  touch  of  pain  in  his  careless  joy ; 
a  sense  of  mystery  which  disturbed 
and  perplexed  him  ;  a  consciousness 
of  something  strange  and  alien  to 
the  wild,  free  life  he  had  been  liv 
ing.  He  no  longer  felt  at  home 
in  the  woods,  and  it  seemed  to 
him  as  if  the  old  intimacy  with 
the  creatures  that  lived  there  had 
been  chilled.  He  was  no  longer 
free-minded  and  free-hearted.  He 
had  lived  until  this  hour  in  the 
world  without  him  ;  now  the  world 
within  was  rising  into  view  ;  he  was 
coming  to  the  knowledge  of  him 
self.  And  that  knowledge  was 
fraught  with  pain,  as  is  all  knowl- 
[62] 


-  * 


edge  that  penetrates  to  a  man's  soul 
and  becomes  part  of  him.  As  a 
child  he  had  known  only  one  world  ; 
now  another  world  was  rising  into 
view,  vexed  with  mists,  obscured  by 
shadows  ;  a  strange,  mysterious,  un 
discovered  country,  full  of  enchant 
ments,  but  elusive  and  baffling. 

The  world  he  knew  seemed  to 
contradict  and  fall  apart  from  the 
world  which  was  slowly  disclosing 
itself  to  him,  like  a  planet  wheeling 
out  of  storm  and  mist  into  an 
ordered  sphere.  Every  morning 
brought  him  the  joy  of  discovery 
and  the  pain  of  "moving  about  in 
worlds  not  realised."  The  old  order 
of  his  life  had  suddenly  vanished  ; 
the  sense  of  familiarity,  of  intimate 
living,  of  home-keeping  and  home- 
[68] 


loving  habit,  had  passed  with  it, 
and  the  youth  awoke  to  find  him 
self  in  a  new  world,  without  bound 
or  horizon,  through  which  no  paths 
ran  to  wonted  places  of  rest  and 
use. 


[64 


Ill 


III 

IN  such  a  mood,  exhilarated  and 
depressed,  full  of  mounting 
life,  but  with  the  touch  of 
pain  on  his  spirit,  the  youth  had 
found  the  murmur  of  the  pines 
soothing  and  restful ;  like  a  cool 
hand  laid  on  a  hot  forehead.  Again 
and  again,  in  these  confused  and 
perplexing  months,  he  had  fled  to 
their  silence  and  shade  as  to  a  re 
treat  in  the  heart  of  old  and  dear 
things. 

As  he  came  across  the  fields  on 
this  radiant  morning  all  the  springs 
of  joy  were  once  more  rising  in 
him ;  the  young  summer  touched 
him  through  every  sense,  and  his 
soul  rushed  out  to  meet  her  in  a 
[67] 


#  J.I'BEfCQZEQai 


passion  of  devotion  and  self-sur 
render.  The  pain  was  stilled,  the 
sense  of  loneliness  had  vanished ; 
and  in  their  place  had  come  a  sud 
den  consciousness  of  new  intimacies 
forming  themselves  with  incredible 
swiftness,  a  deep  sense  of  a  unity 
between  his  spirit  and  the  heart  of 
things  of  which  the  old  familiarity 
had  been  but  a  faint  prophecy. 
Over  the  undiscovered  country  of 
his  own  soul  the  mists  were  melt 
ing,  the  clouds  rolling  up  into 
the  blue  and  dissolving  in  infinite 
depths  of  tenderest  sky,  mountain 
ranges  were  defining  their  outlines 
against  the  sky,  and  the  "  light  that 
never  was  on  sea  or  land "  was 
swiftly  unveiling'  a  harmony  and 
unity  of  world  with  world  which 
[68] 


8BsS^' 


was  itself  a  new  and  higher  beauty 
than  had  dawned  before  on  the 
vision  of  youth. 

The  stillness  of  the  summer  lay 
in  the  heart  of  the  wood,  and  only 
the  gentle  swaying  and  whispering 
of  the  pines,  caressed  by  the  light 
est  of  moving  airs,  made  one  aware 
that  something  stirred  in  the  vast 
and  shining  silence  of  the  sky.  It 
seemed  to  the  youth,  when  he  had 
entered  the  inner  sanctuary  of  the 
wood,  as  if  the  spirit  of  things  were 
touching  invisible  chords  so  softly 
that  they  vibrated  almost  without 
sound.  He  recalled  the  pipes  of 
the  Faun,  so  clear,  piercing,  dis 
tinct,  tuned  to  the  simplest  pleas 
ures  of  the  senses,  with  the  feeling 
that  he  had  heard  them  echoing 
[69] 


\^ 


?&S£t^5 


S' 


through  the  wood  in  some  other 
life  ;  so  remote,  detached  and  alien 
were  they  to  the  richer  mood,  the 
deeper  emotion,  the  mounting  pas 
sion,  of  the  time  and  place.  He 
heard  them  as  one  hears  a  clear,  far 
cry  which  lies  in  the  ear,  but  calls 
to  nothing  in  one's  spirit  and  sets 
no  echoes  flying  in  one's  soul. 


[70] 


IV 


A 


IV 

ND  while  he  hung  upon  the 
silence,  with  the  faint, 
shrill  notes  of  the  pipes 
making  old  music  in  his  memory, 
suddenly,  as  from  some  deeper  re 
treat,  some  more  ancient  sanctuary, 
there  rose  upon  the  hushed  air  a 
melody  that  laid  a  finger  on  his  lips 
and  a  hand  on  his  heart  and  flooded 
the  innermost  recesses  of  his  being. 
Stricken  with  sudden  silence,  mute 
under  the  spell  of  a  music  which 
left  no  thought  unspoken  and  no 
experience  unexpressed,  he  hung  on 
the  thrilling  notes  as  if  all  the  won 
der  and  beauty  and  mystery  of  the 
world  and  the  soul  had  found  speech 
at  last,  and  out  of  the  innermost 
[73] 


heart  of  things  life  flowed  in  a  tu 
multuous,  free,  and  joyous  rush  of 
sound. 

The  pipes  of  the  Faun  had  spoken 
to  him  of  the  joy  of  living,  of  the 
delight  of  motion,  of  the  pleasure 
of  the  eye  and  ear,  of  the  manifold 
murmur    and    happiness    of    living 
creatures  when  the  sun  makes  the 
fields  glad  and  the  woods  are  full 
of  nesting  birds.      It  was  a  music 
which  lay  in  the  ear,  clear  and  dis 
tinct,  without  modulation  or  mys 
tery  or  any  touch  of  that  rich  and 
baffling  complexity  of  motive  which 
comes  with  the  rise  into  sound  of 
those  hidden  and  secret  forces  which 
feed  the  roots  of  life  and  nourish  all 
beauty  at  the  sources  of  being ;  the 
music  of  clear  skies,  of  grain  mov- 
[74] 


77 


f- 


ing  with  the  wind  in  long  billows 
across  the  fields,  of  softly  swaying 
forests,  of  rivers  flowing  in  quiet 
fulness,  of  birds  on  the  wing  and 
creatures  of  many  kinds  living  their 
lives  in  glad  unison  ;  and  of  a  boy's 
happiness  in  the  sight  and  sound  of 
all  these  things. 

But  the  music  upon  which  the 
youth  hung,  mute  and  motionless 
in  the  shadow  of  the  pines,  did  not 
rest  in  the  ear,  nor  weave  its  melody 
out  of  familiar  airs  heard  a  thousand 
times  in  idle  or  busy  hours  ;  it  flowed 
resistless  and  compelling  into  the 
secret  places  of  the  soul,  and  all  the 
deep  and  far  harmonies  of  which 
he  dreamed  when  the  mystery  of 
the  parts  blending  into  one  infinite 
whole  subdued  him  were  caught  up 
[75] 


in  it  and  moved  together  in  a  flood 
of  fathomless  sweetness.  In  this 
rich  harmony  of  the  full,  pulsating 
life  of  things  the  earlier  song  of  the 
play  of  life  over  the  surface  of  the 
world  wras  but  a  slender  rivulet  lost 
in  a  wide  and  all-embracing  tide. 
Those  far  pipings  of  the  Faun  made 
the  merry,  light-hearted  music  of 
the  world  as  it  lay  mirrored  in  the 
senses ;  these  later  and  penetrating 
tones  made  the  music  of  the  world 
as  it  sunk  deep  into  the  imagination 
and  touched  the  soul  of  the  youth. 
The  prelusive  notes  of  discovery 
were  caught  up  and  mingled  with 
the  sublime  music  of  revelation ; 
the  world  which  flashed  in  the  sun 
was  the  blossom  and  fruit  of  the 
fathomless  life  hidden  in  the  heart 
[76] 


of  things,  and  this  mysterious  and 
flooding  life  was  at  one  with  the  life 
that  had  come  to  knowledge  and 
consciousness  in  his  spirit. 

The  gods  make  the  music  to 
which  youth  moves  with  eager  feet, 
and  if  the  youth  had  thrown  off  the 
spell  that  held  him  mute  and  mo 
tionless  in  the  heart  of  the  pines  he 
would  have  seen  a  face  which  was 
long  the  light  of  a  world  which  has 
sunk  below  the  horizon,  but  from 
which  the  artists  and  poets  still 
draw  their  inspiration,  and  to  which 
those  who  make  the  images  of  beauty 
have  always  gone  to  test  the  perfec 
tion  of  the  work  of  their  hands ;  a 
face  of  noble  and  ineffable  beauty ; 
the  features  expressive  of  perfect 
symmetry  and  of  the  finest  individ- 
[77] 


uality;  the  eyes  unshadowed  by 
pain,  luminous,  tender,  glowing  ;  the 
great  shape  so  divinely  fashioned 
that  strength  was  lost  in  beauty 
and  beauty  became  the  highest 
form  of  strength. 


78] 


V 


V 

A^ONG  way  the  god  had 
come  and  manifold  had 
been  his  wanderings  ;  but 
wherever  he  went  the  music  of  high 
heaven  went  with  him.  When  he 
watched  the  herds  in  shepherd's 
guise,  the  sound  of  the  strings 
touched  by  his  hand  had  not  only 
led  the  flocks,  docile  and  happy,  but 
so  filled  them  with  life  that  they  had 
grown  as  flocks1  had  never  grown  be 
fore.  Healer  and  protector,  bringer 
of  light  and  health,  the  splendour  of 
his  face  was  the  poetry  of  the  world, 
the  glance  of  his  eye  its  prophecy, 
the  trembling  of  the  strings  at  his 
touch  its  music.  He  was  the  mas 
ter  of  all  living  things  and  of  the 

[6]  [81] 


"  "I      '  '      S~  2?  '/Vj 

yVstJ^^*9 

AC 


;»n>v'7/:\\.v 

^'^/M^ 


.r 


flash  and  charm  of  the  soul  of 
Nature  caught  for  a  moment  in 
the  shimmer  of  leaves  and  the 
shining  of  water. 

But  it  was  the  diviner  beauty, 
moving  out  of  sight  to  ultimate 
ends,  which  gave  his  face  its  majesty 
of  repose  and  depth  of  loveliness. 
For  him  there  were  no  shadows  ;  in 
his  ear  no  discords  sounded ;  for  in 
him  the  brightness  of  the  sky  was 
prisoned  and  his  hand  made  the 
music  of  the  spheres.  He  saw  the 
roots  of  things  ;  he  heard  the  grasses 
growing  in  the  darkness  of  the  earth ; 
he  marked  the  rising  and  falling  of 
the  tide  of  life  in  all  the  invisible 
channels  in  which  it  ebbs  and  flows  ; 
in  his  mind  all  things  were  revealed 
in  their  divine  order,  and  begin- 

[82] 


WxM 


m 


W'4 


JTV 


Sk 


1 


Y'TI 

I 


ning  and  end  were  shown  in  radiant 
progression. 

And  because  all  things  were  re 
vealed  to  him  and  the  order  of  crea 
tion  moved  about  him  in  unbroken 
unity  he  was  the  interpreter  of  this 
hidden  harmony  to  men,  the  inspirer 
of  all  song,  the  maker  of  all  visions, 
the  master  of  the  mystery  of  the 
world.  In  him  fact  and  power  and 
thought  were  blended  and  harmo 
nised  in  the  creative  imagination, 
and  from  him  flowed  the  stream  of 
creative  energy. 

And  while  the  youth  hung  on 
the  throbbing  of  the  unseen  lyre  the 
hidden  order  of  the  world  was  re 
vealed  to  him,  and  he  too  heard  the 
vast,  inarticulate  murmur  of  life  as 
cending  from  form  to  form  in  the 
[Mj 


'v. 


depths  where  the  forces  that  mould 
the  mountain  summits  and  colour 
the  light  that  shines  on  them,  that 
fashion  the  flower  with  delicate  skill 
and  drive  forth  the  blast  that  blights 
it,  forever  build  and  destroy  that 
they  may  rebuild  on  broader  foun 
dations  and  on  a  nobler  plan. 

And  the  meaning  of  the  world 
grew  clear;  for  the  youth  under 
stood  his  own  spirit,  and  in  that 
knowledge  the  confusions  vanished 
while  the  mystery  deepened  ;  and 
the  splendour  fell  on  his  heart  so 
that  it  was  a  pain,  and  the  mel 
ody  of  it  seemed  too  great  for  his 
spirit. 


84] 


THE   SICKLE   OF   DEMETER 


IN  the  great,  open  world  of  far- 
spreading  fields  there  was  a 
sense  of  repose.  The  tide 
which  had  fertilised  all  things  that 
grow  and  bloom  and  bear  fruit  was 
beginning  to  ebb,  though  there  was 
no  sign  of  vanishing  beauty  on  the 
face  of  the  landscape.  In  the  riot 
of  midsummer,  when  the  lust  of 
life  sometimes  rose  to  a  kind  of 
Bacchic  fury  of  delight,  there  had 
been  no  richer  bloom  of  beauty  on 
the  surface  of  Nature  than  that 
which  lay,  half  seen  and  half  re 
membered,  on  the  fields  in  the  ripe 
autumn  afternoon.  The  rich  love 
liness  that  had  once  spread  itself 
like  a  soft  veil  over  all  things  had 
[87] 


slowly  sunk  to  their  roots,  and, 
as  it  receded,  diffused  a  deeper 
splendour,  a  more  concentrated 
and  enchanting  beauty,  over  the 
tranquil  fields. 

With  the  ripening  of  the  season 
had  come  a  stillness  in  which  the 
voices  of  reapers  and  gleaners  were 
heard  at  a  great  distance ;  as  if 
Nature  had  ceased  to  work  and 
sat  listening  to  the  harvest  songs 
of  her  children,  glad  in  heart  be 
cause  of  her  fertility.  To  the 
tumult  of  creative  forces  vitalising 
the  earth  afresh  in  the  early  sum 
mer  had  succeeded  the  deep  repose 
of  completed  work ;  the  noise  and 
clamour  of  action  had  died  in  the 
silence  of  that  meditative  mood 
which  follows  fast  upon  the  fin- 

[88] 


ished   task   and   reveals  its  quality 
and  significance. 

The  final  transfiguration  which, 
like  a  great  torch  held  aloft  by  a 
retreating  goddess,  was  to  flash 
from  the  heart  of  things  a  sudden, 
brief,  and  ineffable  splendour,  was 
still  unlighted,  and  the  earth  rested 
in  quiet  content,  ripe  with  all  fruit- 
fulness,  laden  with  the  wealth  of 
vine  and  grain  and  bending  bough. 
Through  long,  tranquil  days  the 
rhythm  of  the  scythe  had  beat  on 
the  ear,  and  brought  back  an 
ancient  music  heard  in  forgotten 
years  when  the  race  was  young 
and  played  with  the  gods  who  still 
haunted  the  world  they  had  made. 
The  heavy-laden  wain  had  moved 
slowly  across  the  fields,  like  some 
[89] 


.„  % 

m 


rude  barge  overweighted  with  an 
opulent  cargo,  and  awkwardly  drift 
ing  through  the  long  afternoons  to 
its  anchorage  beside  the  great, 
empty  barns,  A  steady  heat,  not 
blinding  and  consuming,  but  per 
vasive  and  penetrating,  evoked  the 
sweetness  of  ripened  grain,  and 
mellow  fruits  seemed  to  distil  and 
express  their  sweetness  in  the  air. 
The  fragrance  of  fruitage,  so  much 
richer  than  that  of  the  budding 
time,  filled  the  world  and  made 
the  heart  glad  with  the  sense  of 
fulfilment  and  possession. 


[90] 


II 


I 


II 

the  man  who  came 
slowly  across  the  fields 
the  whole  world  smelled 


of  the  ripened  summer ;  of  all  the 
rich  juices  which  had  mounted  out 
of  the  soul  in  a  million  million 
spears  and  stalks  and  blades  and 
stems  ;  of  all  the  potencies  of  form 
and  colour  and  odour,  hidden  in 
the  darkness,  that  had  escaped  to 
take  shape  in  innumerable  grasses, 
flowers,  and  shrubs  with  a  skill 
surpassing  the  thought  of  man,  and 
had  breathed  into  them  a  sweetness 
deep  as  the  fathomless  purity  of 
Nature ;  of  the  mysterious  fountain 
of  life  at  the  heart  of  things,  which 
so  many  men  have  sought  but 
[93] 


apflO  'Nv^'"* 


/  -> 


/".''  i 

• 


which  no  man  has  found,  which 
had  silently  overflowed  and  vitalised 
all  things,  and  was  now  receding  as 
silently  and  mysteriously  as  it  had 
risen. 

Life  had  once  more  expressed  it 
self  and  was  again  silent ;  the  old 
miracle  had  been  performed  anew 
under  the  eyes  of  all  men,  and  was 
as  incomprehensible  to  these  latest 
as  it  had  been  to  the  earliest  work 
ers  in  the  fields  ;  the  mystery  had 
been  revealed  afresh  and  was  still 
impenetrable  ;  the  earth  had  fed  her 
children  and  filled  their  storehouses 
and  granaries  against  the  time  of 
need ;  but  no  man  had  seen  the  lift 
of  her  hand  or  caught  the  sound  of 
her  foot  in  all  those  months  when 
the  world  could  hardly  contain  the 
[94 


,  \ 


*V — T 

f 


i'W 


manifold  and  tremendous  energies 
she  kept  at  work. 

Time,  the  ripener,  had  made 
friends  with  the  man  who  medi 
tated  in  the  well-gleaned  fields  and 
had  enriched  him  year  by  year. 
Far  back  in  boyhood  he  had  heard 
the  pipes  of  the  Faun  and  followed 
them,  glad  and  free,  into  the  depths 
of  the  wood  and  lived  at  ease  with 
the  creatures  that  hide  there ;  the 
birds  paid  no  more  attention  to  him 
than  to  other  familiar  and  friendly 
things ;  he  had  early  won  the  free 
dom  of  the  fields  and  been  as  one 
of  the  wild  things  that  have  no  other 
roof  but  the  sky,  and  are  fed  by  the 
providence  of  Nature. 

And  then,  in  his  golden  youth, 
when  the  imagination  kindles  and 
[95 


,*o  i 


the  commonest  things  are  touched 
with  poetry,  he  had  listened  like 
one  enchanted  to  the  full,  rich  tones 
of  Apollo's  lyre,  vibrating  to  the 
touch  of  the  secret  forces  and  re 
vealing  the  mystery  and  splendour 
and  sublime  order  of  things  in  such 
a  swell  and  sweep  of  melody  as 
set  all  the  worlds  singing  together. 
And  in  that  divine  music  the  world 
that  had  lain  outspread  in  his  senses 
in  all  its  varied  beauty  sank  into  his 
imagination  and  broadened  immeas 
urably  into  a  universe  whose  love 
liness  was  the  bloom  of  the  streaming 
life  at  its  heart,  whose  aspects  and 
movements  and  forces  were  signs  and 
words  of  his  own  inner  life,  whose 
vastness  and  order  and  variety  were 
a  sublime  symbol  of  an  intelligence 
[96] 


everywhere  at  work  but  nowhere 
revealed,  which  was  at  one  with 
his  own  spirit. 

These  two  great  revelations  had 
made  his  life  one  long,  orderly,  quiet 
unfolding;  as  the  physical  charac 
teristics  of  one  age  had  passed  away 
its  spiritual  quality  had  been  wrought 
into  him,  and  he  had  gone  on  from 
one  period  to  another  with  stead 
ily  increasing  wealth  of  impression, 
knowledge,  and  power.  Instead  of 
weakening,  the  years  had  enriched 
him ;  at  the  ripe  moment  in  each 
succeeding  period  he  had  trans 
muted  the  physical  into  spiritual 
strength,  and  his  past  lived  in  his 
present,  unwasted  and  unforgotten. 
Old  now  in  years,  the  joy  and  fresh 
ness  of  childhood,  the  ardour  and 

m  [  97  ] 


enthusiasm  of  youth,  the  organised 
and  tempered  strength  of  maturity, 
were  his  in  higher  measure  and  finer 
quality  than  he  had  possessed  them 
before.  For  him  the  Faun  still 
piped  far  afield  when  the  tenderest 
green  was  on  the  trees  ;  for  him  the 
far-sounding  chords  of  Apollo's  lyre 
were  still  struck  when  the  beauty 
of  the  summer  flooded  the  world ; 
and  now,  at  the  summit  of  the  long 
ascent  of  the  years,  he  walked  with 
Nature  with  quick  eye,  kindling  im 
agination,  and  a  repose  in  his  heart 
as  deep  as  that  which  folded  the 
world  in  a  vast  peace. 


[98] 


III 


Ill 

A~TD  for  him,  as  for  all  who 
live  with  Nature,  the  hour 
of  revelation  was  not 
ended  ;  upon  the  later  as  upon  the 
earlier  years  there  was  to  come 
the  breath  of  the  divine.  As  he 
walked  the  stillness  seemed  to 
deepen ;  the  voices  of  reapers  and 
gleaners  died  into  silence  ;  the  great 
barges  came  to  anchorage  beside  the 
barns.  A  hush  fell  upon  the  world 
toward  sunset,  so  akin  to  that  which 
fills  the  dim  arches  and  deep  aisles 
of  cathedrals  that  the  old  man 
paused,  looked  thoughtfully  over 
the  landscape,  and  seated  himself 
beside  a  familiar  tree.  The  air 
was  warm,  and  moved  so  gently 

[101] 


that  it  seemed  like  the  caress  of  un 
seen  hand ;  the  western  sky  turned 
into  gold  and  the  world  became  a 
temple  the  splendour  of  which  had 
been  foreshowed,  but  never  realised 
before.  All  things  were  silent ;  for 
it  was  the  vesper  hour  of  the  sum 
mer  and  Nature  was  both  shrine 
and  worshipper. 

Reverent  and  worshipful  the  man 
sat  with  uncovered  head,  and  eyes 
which  seemed  to  see  the  vision  of 
the  years  silently  passing,  laden 
with  gifts.  And  while  he  waited 
and  remembered  and  worshipped, 
across  the  level  stretches  of  the 
fields,  far  toward  the  horizon,  a 
golden  mist  seemed  to  move  toward 
him,  borne  lightly  forward  by  an 
unseen*  current  of  air.  Slowly  it 

[102] 


l/i'l 


drew  nearer,  and  as  it  came  the 
silence  deepened  and  a  sudden  awe 
ran  through  the  world.  The  mist 
grew  more  dense  and  real,  and 
within  it  outlines  defined  and  shapes 
formed  themselves,  and  the  heart 
of  the  man  told  him  that  again 
the  gods  were  abroad.  Faint  and 
far  he  seemed  to  hear  the  clear, 
shrill  notes  of  the  Faun,  and  nearer 
and  deeper  and  clearer  the  music 
of  the  lyre  breathed  through  the 
silence  the  great  song  of  the  creative 
moment ;  and  then,  preluded  by  the 
simple  melody  of  childhood  and  the 
richer  music  of  youth,  the  Goddess 
stood  in  the  fields  and  he  saw  her 
move  her  divinely  moulded  arms  as 
if  in  benediction.  The  glory  of  the 
west  shone  behind  her  like  burnished 

[103] 


gold  and  wrapped  her  in  a  splen 
dour  which  at  once  revealed  and  hid 
her  ;  her  yellow  hair  was  like  a  nim 
bus  round  her  benignant  face,  and 
she  moved  as  one  who  possessed  the 
world  and  enriched  it  without  self- 
impoverishment.  Custodian  of  the 
fields,  guardian  of  the  sower  and  the 
reaper,  the  mellow  air  was  incense 
to  her  and  the  bursting  graneries 
and  barns  were  her  treasure-houses. 
Behind  her  lay  the  long  road  of 
her  wanderings,  and  as  it  had  blos 
somed  before  her  feet,  so  now,  in 
the  hour  of  her  enthronement,  it 
gathered  unto  itself,  like  a  robe  of 
cloth  of  gold,  all  the  rich  beauty 
it  had  won  while  the  sun  had  ca 
ressed  and  cherished  it.  Before  the 
Goddess,  like  a  splendid  offering, 

[104] 


<^2^ 

^KKitea 


?r  *VA 

A I 


the  richness  of  the  world  was 
spread ;  and  in  her  its  fruitful  proc 
esses  were  incarnated  and  personi 
fied.  The  life  that  recorded  its 
earliest  coming  in  the  most  deli 
cate  and  elusive  forms  of  beauty, 
and,  later,  rose  into  a  kind  of 
Bacchic  fury  of  creative  energy 
until  the  whole  world  throbbed 
and  pulsed  with  the  divine  intox 
ication  of  mounting  and  climbing 
and  blossoming  vitality,  was  hushed 
and  harmonised  in  a  sublime  repose  ; 
its  passion  completely  expressed,  its 
secret  and  hidden  forces  sent  to  their 
farthest  ends,  its  mysterious  proc 
esses  accomplished,  its  work  done 
with  divine  joy  and  perfection. 

The  ancient  symbolism  had  been 
manifest  again  in  the  vision  of  all 

[105] 


TO 
^•<&*&Kr*- 


'(V^ft  \x 


>}W 


*WfW\W* 

m^jr\\^ 

pw**f*Ai&BimJh 


who  could  understand :  the  frozen 
earth ;  the  slow-moving  sun ;  the 
hard,  black  seed  sown  in  darkness  ; 
the  searching  of  the  light  and  heat, 
lovingly  caressing  the  fields ;  the 
death  of  the  seed,  the  birth  of  the 
flower  and  grain  ;  the  slender  blade 
creeping  up  out  of  the  grave  of  the 
husk  into  the  world  of  life  ;  the 
growing  stalk  caught  in  the  uni 
versal  stirring  of  things  ;  the  time 
of  flowering,  redolent  of  fragrance 
and  jubilant  with  the  songs  of  birds  ; 
the  ripening  in  the  long,  quiet  sum 
mer  days,  when  all  things  were 
glad  of  life  and  silently  grew  in 
its  fulness ;  and  now,  at  the  end, 
the  fruit-bearing  and  harvesting, 
the  consummation  of  it  all  and  the 
crowning  of  the  year. 


IV 


IV 

THE    Goddess,   whose   yel 
low  hair  was  like  a  nim 
bus  of  sunshine  about  her, 
brought  the  fragrance  of  the  early 
summer  in  her  train,  and  crocus  and 
hyacinth,  narcissus  and  violet,  daffo 
dil,   arbutus,  and  hepatica  were   in 
the   air   in   delicate   suggestion ;   in 
her  coming  the  rose,  which  lies  on 
the  heart  of  nature,  the  ravishing 
symbol    of    her    passion,    bloomed 
again   in   all    its   deep-dyed    loveli 
ness.      With  her,   too,   moved   the 
rich,  ardent,  passionate,  stirring  and 
climbing  and  unfolding  of  midsum 
mer,  when  the  earth  bares  her  heart 
to   the  sun  and   gives  herself  in  a 
great  surrender.      In  the  Goddess, 
[  109  ] 


f£%&4?£*- 


moving  across  the  fields  with  a  step 
so  light  and  buoyant  that  she  seemed 
a  vision  floating  in  air,  the  full,  ripe 
putting  forth  of  the  life  of  the  world, 
radiant  with  visible  beauty  to  the 
eye  and  fathomlessly  significant  of 
the  invisible  order  of  things  to  the 
imagination,  was  personified. 

And  now,  in  the  supreme  hour 
when  all  the  forces  of  Nature  ful 
filled  themselves  in  fruitage,  the 
silent  watcher  of  the  ancient  mys 
tery  saw  in  the  coming  and  pres 
ence  of  the  Goddess  the  symbol  of 
his  own  life.  To  him,  as  to  the 
open  fields,  there  had  been  the  time 
of  the  sowing  and  of  the  reaping ; 
to  him,  as  to  the  landscape,  there 
had  been  the  early  glow  of  life,  the 
delicate  beauty,  the  fresh  and  sweet 

[110] 


beginnings  of  growth ;  the  opening 
of  the  spirit  through  the  senses,  like 
a  flower  unfolding  petal  after  petal 
to  the  glance  of  the  sun  and  the 
touch  of  the  air.  To  him,  also,  had 
come  the  effulgence  of  the  young 
summer  when  the  imagination,  kin 
dling  a  sudden  fire  and  light  within, 
had  flooded  the  senses  and  streamed 
out  over  the  world  and  touched  all 
things  with  a  glory  not  their  own, 
and  the  life  of  the  youth  had  been 
a  rushing  tide  of  joy  and  strength 
and  exultant  energy ;  deep,  tumul 
tuous  and  passionate  with  the  glad 
ness  and  the  pain  of  a  meaning  at 
the  heart  too  great  for  any  kind  of 
speech.  And  now  had  come  the 
broad  content,  the  deep  serenity, 
the  fathomless  repose  of  powers  put 
[in] 


forth,  energy  expressed,  functions 
fulfilled,  growth  accomplished  In 
the  silence  which  enfolded  the  God 
dess  and  brought  the  sense  of  in 
finite  peace  with  it  the  watcher  was 
aware  of  the  harmony  between  his 
life  and  the  life  of  Nature.  The 
two  had  moved  so  long  in  unison 
that  they  had  become  as  one,  set  to 
the  same  music,  borne  onward  to 
the  same  ends  ;  each  fulfilling  itself 
in  obedience  to  that  law  of  order, 
of  beauty,  of  fruitfulness,  under 
which  the  world  has  bloomed  and 
borne  its  fruit  through  uncounted 
centuries. 

And  while  he  watched  and  medi 
tated,  and  the  meaning  of  it  all 
grew  clear  and  sank  into  his  soul, 
the  golden  west  softly  veiled  itself 

[112] 


in  the  mists  that  gather  at  the  gates 
of  night,  and  the  vision  faded  and 
the  man  was  alone  with  the  earliest 
stars. 


POSTLUDE 

I 


A~iE  had  come  graciously 
to  the  man  who  sat  be 
fore  the  wide  hearth. 
There  had  been  no  sudden  change, 
no  withering  of  the  affections,  no 
abrupt  decline  of  power ;  the  tide 
had  gone  out  gently  and  softly  in 
the  hush  at  the  end  of  the  day  and 
left  a  deep  peace  behind  it.  There 
had  been  a  long  ripening,  and  then 
a  half-realised  translation  of  the 
physical  into  spiritual  energies ; 
knowledge  had  deepened  into  wis 
dom,  and  in  the  cool  of  the  even 
ing  there  had  come  that  tranquil 
meditation  which  distils  sweetness 
out  of  arduous  activities  and 
[117] 


passionate  experiences ;  the  pause 
which  intervenes  between  succes 
sive  stages  of  unfolding  ;  the  silence 
in  which  one  parts  from  a  life  end 
ing  and  greets  a  life  beginning.  As 
the  grain  'ripens  for  the  gleaning 
and  the  fruit  for  the  plucking,  so 
the  spirit  of  a  man  ripens  in  the 
quietness  of  age. 

In  this  deep  serenity  the  man  sat 
by  the  fire  which  had  become  a  bed 
of  glowing  embers  and  warmed  his 
soul  as  well  as  his  body.  And  there 
passed  before  him  the  vision  of  the 
life  within  and  the  life  without 
mounting  together,  season  after  sea 
son,  to  perfect  fruition.  He  saw 
the  tender  twig,  green  and  sensi 
tive,  growing  shyly  in  the  shadow 
of  great  trees.  He  saw  the  full, 

[118] 


k 


round  trunk,  with  heavy  branches 
dense  with  foliage,  expanding 
quietly  through  immemorial  years, 
and  assimilating  with  itself  the 
forces  of  soil  and  air  and  sky 
until  it  held  the  ripe  juices  of 
centuries  of  summers.  He  saw  the 
tree  in  its  full  maturity,  standing 
in  the  strength  of  complete  growth 
and  ripeness.  He  heard  its  crash 
when  the  axe  of  the  woodman  had 
done  its  work  ;  he  had  watched  the 
earliest  flame  creeping  between  the 
logs,  and  bursting  at  length  into 
a  blaze  in  which  all  the  forgotten 
summers  that  had  given  it  of  their 
vitality  conspired  together  to  recall 
the  splendour  of  golden  hours  far 
down  the  horizon  of  the  past.  And 
now,  its  growth  completely  accom- 
[1191 


\xM 


'fa 

vvM 


•"•TtV  '^-'r'/Jm^rii  'sS^.t    rvV-*  V  s^-X-^S^'  '• 


plished,    its    life    completely    lived,     ||| 
the    tree    had    become    a    bed    of 


embers,  soon  to  become  a  handful 


•^>mm 


-:  4  -sSSL. 


II 


II 


I 


parable,  old  as  the 
earth  and  new  as  the  slen 
derest  sapling  in  the  woods, 
the  old  man  read  again  with  a  deep 
and  tranquil  joy.  There  was  a  true 
kinship  between  him  and  the  life 
going  out  in  light  and  warmth  at 
his  feet,  as  there  was  between  him 
and  all  things  that  live  within  the 
wide  empire  of  Nature.  As  he  sat 
there*,  with  whitened  locks  but  with 
the  heart  of  youth,  tranquil  and  ex 
pectant,  the  light  shone  on  the  path 
by  which  he  had  come  and  it  lay  be 
fore  him  like  a  road  across  a  rolling 
country  upon  which  one  looks  down 
from  some  friendly  hill.  Far  off 
against  the  horizon  he  saw  the  boy, 

[123] 


breaking  joyfully  into  the  vast  play 
ground  of  childhood,  where  the 
mightiest  forces  sport  with  children 
and  the  most  significant  and  impres 
sive  forms  become  the  symbols  of 
their  young  fancies  ;  and  he  caught 
once  more  the  piercing  tones  of  the 
pipes  of  the  Faun. 

And  travelling  along  the  road,  he 
overtook  the  youth,  eager,  exultant, 
open-eyed,  running  with  swift  feet, 
his  soul  kindling  into  a  great  flame 
and  the  familiar  landscape  changing 
into  fairyland  at  the  touch  of  the 
master  magician ;  and  again,  as  of 
old,  there  came  the  flooding  mel 
ody,  streaming  up  from  the  heart 
of  things,  which  swept  from  the 
lyre  of  the  god  and  ran  to  the 
ends  of  the  world. 

[124] 


.- 


"  Without,  the  stillness  of  the  winter  night 


»  ;  ' 


Once  more  the  road  lengthened 
and  passed  through  fields  of  ripened 
grain ;  and  in  the  mellow  silence 
there  rose  a  mist  against  the  hori 
zon,  slowly  moving  nearer,  and  out 
of  illusive  mystery  of  light  and 
shadow  emerged  the  Goddess  of 
the  yellow  hair,  for  whom  the 
earth  yields  up  her  store  of  vital 
ity,  and  in  whom  all  things  that 
fulfil  themselves  in  perfect  growth 
are  personified. 

Without,  the  stillness  of  the  win 
ter  night  filled  the  wide  heavens  set 
with  a  thousand  stars.  The  earth 
was  hidden  out  of  sight  by  a  great 
fall  of  snow,  which  had  wrought 
magical  changes  in  the  familiar 
landscape.  Long  ago  the  last  har 
vest-field  had  been  gleaned,  and 

[125] 


the  latest  load  safely  housed  in  the 
great  barns.  The  meadows  lay  cold 
and  sterile  in  the  fierce  winds  that 
swept  them ;  and  the  shining  heav 
ens  seemed  to  be  infinitely  distant 
from  the  earth  over  which  they  had 
brooded  in  the  long  summer  days. 

The  old  man  saw  the  stainless 
whiteness  on  the  stretches  of  meadow 
and  the  icy  glitter  of  the  wintry 
stars,  but  there  was  no  shadow  on 
his  face.  The  fields,  like  the  tree, 
had  lived  their  life  to  the  end  and 
borne  their  fruit.  The  glow  was 
fading  among  the  embers,  and  he 
overlaid  them  with  ashes  ;  to-mor 
row  another  hand  would  uncover 
them,  and  their  last  lingering  vital 
ity  would  light  another  fire.  Deep 
under  the  snow  he  heard  the  stir- 

[126] 


rings  of  the  life  that  was  making 
ready  for  another  outpouring  of 
blossom  and  fruit. 

To-night  a  sinking  fire,  an  ice 
bound  world,  a  body  smitted  with 
age ;  to-morrow  the  glow  of  an 
other  flame,  the  beauty  of  another 
summer,  the  reach  and  splendour 
of  a  larger  life  ! 


•: 


[127] 


:'.- 


OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


